


Doubt Thou the Stars are Fire

by Brit Hux-Tico (birchwoods01)



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Animal Death, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Fluff and Smut, Gingerflower, Gingerose, Gingerrose - Freeform, Non graphic depiction of skinning an animal for food
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-23
Updated: 2020-08-23
Packaged: 2021-03-06 21:41:49
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,937
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26065927
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/birchwoods01/pseuds/Brit%20Hux-Tico
Summary: On the forest moon of Endor, a former First Order General and Resistance Lieutenant General attempt to find some semblance of peace after the war, seeking solace in one another.
Relationships: Armitage Hux/Rose Tico
Comments: 27
Kudos: 73





	Doubt Thou the Stars are Fire

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ElfMaidenOfLight](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ElfMaidenOfLight/gifts).



> HAPPY HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO ALEX ([ElfMaidenofLight](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ElfMaidenOfLight/pseuds/ElfMaidenOfLight))!!! 
> 
> I hope you have a fabulous birthday and an even MORE fabulous year!! Thank you for being the most amazing friend, co-mod, and editor/beta a person could ask for! I feel blessed that I've gotten to know you better and am thankful daily that we met in this beautiful Gingerrose fandom. HOPE YOU GET SAFELY DRUNK AND EAT GOOD FOOD AND PARTY HARD ON YOUR BIRTHDAY!! But first, enjoy this fic. 
> 
> Thanks to [ ShinyGreenApple ](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ShinyGreenApple/pseuds/ShinyGreenApple) for doing a beta read on this for me. I absolutely LOVE your work, it's so sexy, so being able to get your input on this was very helpful. I appreciate you so much!! THANK YOU.

_Doubt thou the stars are fire_ ,

_Doubt that the sun doth move_ ,

_Doubt truth to be a liar_ ,

_But never doubt I love_.

\- from William Shakespeare's _Hamlet_

Doubt lives in the cobwebbed corners of the mind. It shrinks so small until one believes it to be gone, a wraith of a presence, a mouse in the walls of a home, a microscopic spider going on unnoticed, yet weaving its webs. Every now and then it seeps, like garlic from pores, creep-crawls as a crouching panther into the mind and pounces, until one is entirely overwhelmed yet confused, wondering, yet again, where the source of the doubt is coming from.

It happens in the most inopportune times, as it happened many a time, over and over, for Rose Tico. 

It happened when the First Order lay down their arms and the trembling, electric might of Exegol shook like it was tumbling out of space itself beneath her feet. 

It happened when the trial was held, when she watched the expressions on his face shift like the kaleidoscopic blur of colors in the jungle on Ajan Kloss when she’d had too much to drink and celebrated what she had thought was the beginning of the rest of her life. 

And again, when he was once more freed to her, when he held the pieces of her in his arms and gathered them up and tightened his grip, determined to hold on to the control of at least this, promising to put her back together again. 

It happened standing on the surface of Endor, watching him study the rubble of his lineage and legacy.

Armitage Hux stood like a man defiant and proud, his posture one eternal ‘fuck you’ to the galaxy that birthed him, boots planted in the soft wood-chip-covered, nutrient-rich soil moist from the morning’s rain. He leaned against a redwood tree, just the barest stretch of his shoulder holding it up, and as Rose scanned up the length of him, it felt as if the world passed away around her, and she shrunk as he grew, ten feet tall; surveyed the remains of the Empire. 

Her heart stuttered in her chest. 

She wondered if she questioned him, if she pushed and pressed, if she insisted, once more, that he renounce his legacy, would he be patient with her? Would he say it once more, just for her?

Would he pick her again over the grasp of power? Or would this be the moment, standing here on the grave of the Empire’s folly, the Father to his equally fallen First order, where he would turn to her and tell her to wake up from this beautiful dream?

The forest was alive around her with the chitter chatter of local birdsong. Trees swayed and danced in the breeze, their branches creaking, and she could hear the pitter-patter softness of the leaves and needles of the surrounding giant sentries as they dislodged themselves to peacefully meet their end, drifting to rest on the forest floor. 

A season called fall was coming: the end to a summer of beauty. 

Her breath hitched in her throat as her fallen General turned, the golden hued beams of the setting sun catching the corner of his gaze and lighting it up in a spasm of bright jade green rimmed in hazelnut tinted gray. Her heart swooned and swelled in her chest, fit to bursting with the pain of his beauty as her eyes raked over the swell of his bottom lip, swollen from her affection, the sleek-hard shape of his ginger-fire hair, militant like him, but sticking up in places where she’d manhandled him. His cheekbones cut beneath the healing bruise-like quality of his eyes, once lilac purple, now pale gray-white, proof of healing and sleep. 

Surely this man would not leave her now… Surely, he was hers, mind body and soul. 

Surely . . .

“Shall we go inside?”

His voice called her from the deep-dark depth of thought, and Rose cracked a subtle smile, wiping a loose curl of dark hair from her cheek and tucking it behind her ear with trembling fingers. 

Before them, an Empirical bunker rested in the hillside like a sleeping monster. The rusty, out of use pneumatic doors were his eye, the shaped patterns of dirt-brown red on rotten and molten durasteel beams the swirl of the iris, the curl of mossy ferns and winding, willowy vines cascading off the front to weave a braid to the side were his hair, and one finger stuck up out of the dirt in the form of a broken, rusted speeder-bike, the helmet discarded nearby, with a little clump of bright-blue flowers growing out of the bowl of it. 

Were it not for her fears manifesting in the form of bile in the back of her throat, Rose would normally have loved to see such a sight: the forest reclaiming what had been used for evil. 

Perhaps more beauty could be found within. 

But she did not want to see it, or rather, did not want to see what this monster could do to her own, the one she’d found and tended with love, sweetly and gently brought back into the light where he belonged. 

Her fingers shaking, Rose reached for his hand. 

“No, I’m tired. Let’s head back to camp.”

This moment was like all the others: the anticipation of waiting and wanting, of fearing that he would make the wrong choice. 

But he took her hand and went to her side, towering over her. Relief, warm and golden, trickled through the pained places in her heart, and she breathed deep through her nose, turning to guide him back down the trail they’d first wandered down together. 

He stopped her, pulled her back with a jerk of his arm, and she spun in surprise, gasp-shouting, before he caught her, sprawled and stumbling, against his chest. 

“You’re awfully quiet, Tico,” he murmured against her skin, tilting up her chin with the cool warmth of his long, bare fingers. “I normally can’t get you to stop.”

Rose thought of the sensation of melting, of turning into a puddle of goo that filled her boots and spread as his lips and tongue laved slowly, sweetly, obsessively over the expanse of her throat, as his nose grazed her jaw and his teeth nipped that sensitive little place just below her ear.

Helplessly, she whined. 

“I told you,” Rose retorted as sharply as she could, a bite with no teeth. “I’m tired. We hiked far today.”

“Hmm.”

That was the sound he made when he was deep in thought, and rare for him. As a General, he was a man of order and prowess, of iron strength and durasteel will. There was never a moment for inflection or weakness, never a moment for doubt. There was only the Order: the truth and the way. 

Rose could almost envy such a propensity for surety.

But there had been more to him, layer upon layer of General Hux, complexities and insecurities and hopes and fears buried deep, deep down beneath the persona he had manifested and maneuvered himself to be. Few were privileged enough to witness such things, rare unknown beasts of the wild they were to most, glimpses given to the privy. 

But to Rose, he had given the key to the garden. 

“I do believe you are lying to me,” he breathed, snake calm, into her ear. 

Rose’s face flushed with heat as his broad palms squeezed both halves of her bottom, as he pulled the vibrating form of her into the shelter of his broad chest, slipped one of his thighs between hers and backed her up, up, up against a redwood tree, held her there, her toes dangling just slightly above the ground. 

His hair smelled of juniper and balsamwood over the underlying spice and leather after their hike. She buried her nose in the strands and inhaled him, panting out in tiny gasps as he ran his fingers up her spine like the keys of a piano. 

His tongue painted her collarbone, his teeth pulled the warm color of her blood to the surface of the skin on her neck, marking her, claiming her for his own.

It hurt wonderfully. 

Tears threatened the corners of her eyes, the ducts there prickling painfully as she flicked her gaze up to meet the eye of that sleeping Empire giant in the hill behind the shoulder of her lover. 

“Rose…” 

He called her from the dark deep, her melancholy thoughts halting, and she buried her face in his shoulder, drawing a deep breath through her nose, her mind swirling with the comfort of him. 

She turned her face upward, met his eyes, her mouth hanging open as she warred with herself on whether or not to spill the truth. 

He waited, patiently. 

Hux was the physical embodiment of patience, the complete foil to her eager, demanding, go-getter spirit. And somehow… someway… she’d managed to snatch his attention.

“What now?” 

Her candor erupted from her throat as a vomitous mass, quick and without permission, and her stomach churned in the after effects as she studied his face for a reaction. 

The stalwart, steely, stony expression did not change, but ginger brows knitted slightly together and full lips brushed the tip of her nose in affection. 

“What now?” he repeated, echoing with further emphasis. “Now, we go back to camp and have provisions, and tomorrow we can do what we came here for.”

“Not-... not for our journey, I mean,” Rose hesitated, shaking her face away from his and squirming against his thigh, the point between hers throbbing as he shifted, unconsciously grinding up into her to keep her upright. 

The gesture was not meant to be sexual, but Rose was too short to kiss naturally, so Hux liked to be inventive in the ways he brought her up to his level, ever the brilliant genius and eager possessor. 

“I mean… life. You-... we… the Order…?”

Rose winced as her feet touched the forest floor once more, sinking into the soft, dead fleshy bed of fallen and rotten leaves, her body cold in the absence of his as he pulled away from her. 

“The Order is gone.”

The words knifed through the air and slit her heart in two. 

But he held her hand as they made their way back to camp, helped her shorter legs match his stride as he leaped elegantly down boulders and turned to hitch his palms around her waist and lift her down like a sack of root vegetables. Rose’s stomach churned with bad feeling as they wound their way back through the forest, linked by the web of their interlaced fingers. 

She studied the tall, lanky form of him as he strode through the woods with her in tow, hand at the ready to pull the blaster at his hip should danger befall them, clasped tight to her hand, keeping her near within his radius. 

The Order had been everything to him. She did not understand why he was not trying to rebuild, did not understand why when, at the end of the war, Rose had whispered thoughtlessly in his ear how nice it would be to get away and have time for peace, he had agreed to come with her. 

She did not understand why this man, once so dark and so dangerous, now chose to stroll through nature at her side, was content to build fires and fuck under the sea of stars above their heads. 

It was only a matter of time… 

That night they built a fire by the side of their little star cruiser. The flames licked high into the sky, yellow, red, and orange tongues lapping along the rough chunks of wood, singeing the splinters along the edges to pin sized embers. A vacuous column of smoke filled the sky, signaling to the entire planet their location. 

It made Rose’s heart seize to know it, but this was a time of peace. 

Her heart settled as Hux knelt beside her, folded his long legs up to plop his bottom onto the canvas tarp beside her. He offered her a plate of sauteed root vegetables and plump brush rat that he’d caught with a trap. 

_First Order survival training_ he’d grunted to her as he skinned the animal. 

There was something rather barbaric in the way he readied their meal, and in the way she stared at the tendons in his forearm as he worked, studied the little smears of blue blood at his wrists and fingertips, the way one tendril of fire orange hair fell over his forehead. 

The ever-patient and all commanding General had skills of his own, leaving Rose with a conflicted fire in her belly. 

She insisted on eating her portion nestled in against his side, hungry for touch. 

He did not complain, but made room for her, starving for the same, though he would never admit it. 

The wind changed direction and smoke blew in their eyes. Rose buried her face in the crook of his neck. He tutted with his tongue and continued to chew his portion, uncaring. 

They were so different. Perhaps they did not belong together after all… Perhaps it would be okay if he wanted to join the rest of his fallen Order comrades in their exile. 

Perhaps it would be okay if, after this silly little journey of theirs, they parted ways.

The newly devoured meal turned over in Rose’s stomach. 

“I’m turning in,” she announced suddenly, pulling away and getting to her feet, sliding the small, silver platter she’d eaten off of into the cast-plast tub of water they used for washing. 

Hux’s eyes were on hers, glowing almost amber brown in the light of the fire, like embers in the dark, smoldering at her as he chewed slowly with one side of his strong jaw, the other clenched. 

He knew something was wrong. 

Hurriedly, to avoid his scrutiny, Rose washed her dinner plate and stowed it in the proper location as Hux had shown her, desperate to avoid any sort of chastisement, and made her way to their little blanket nest beneath the belly of the ship. 

It was warm here, protected by the ship from the morning dew that covered all plant life on Endor’s surface. They’d snatched a number of canvas tarps, bantha wool blankets, and even the furry white pelt of some animal left behind by one of the Resistance members who’d died on Exegol in the fighting. 

Rose kicked off her boots and crouched on the soft pile of bedding, moving to roll her socks down her ankles, damp from the day's activities. She tossed them off to the side, further down the length under the ships belly, her cheeks burning as she pointedly ignored Hux’s stare, knowing already in the brief time they’d “lived” together in their travels, that he was a stickler for organization and cleanliness. 

Why bother pleasing him if none of this was real anyway. 

Rose slumped down onto her back and began to wiggle her pants down her hips, distracted by the sudden motion of Hux getting up from his seat beside the fire. He turned his back to her as he cleared his own plate, then stepped away into the dark shadow of gloom around the firelight of their camp. 

A pout pulled on Rose’s lips, disappointed, for some reason, that he had not immediately followed her. 

She freshened up her teeth with a depilatory and fell asleep watching the horizon beyond the ridge, studying the numerous smatterings of bright white stars in the sky, the low slung glowing orbs of light in the trees below the black heavens, where Ewok villages were found. 

Eventually, Hux joined her, shifting the blanket she’d burrowed into higher over her bare shoulder in her tank top fatigues, stroking the long mess of black hair off of her neck to pillow behind her, and slid his form up against her back, pulling her into his embrace. 

She made no sound of acknowledgement, even as his plush lips kissed her temple, her neck, her shoulder. 

Even as he whispered something ever so quiet into her ear. 

The sunrise woke her up first. The light slipped in beneath the shelter of their black ship, piercing Rose’s eyes through her closed lids. She groaned and shifted beneath a heavy weight over her waist, curled her toes and stretched her thighs and legs downwards, yawning deep as she turned her face away from the sun’s assault. 

Her eyes half-opened onto beauty, and her heart stopped. 

In the purple pink light of morning, Hux was a myth. His pale ginger lashes curled softly upward from his pale pink skin, the light changing all of the colors, from fire orange to subtle red hair, from white-chalk skin to soft, warm salmon. His lips were a dark blood plum, gently parted as he breathed in and out, his chest rising and falling against her arm. 

She dare not move, afraid to wake him, but studied him for what seemed like hours as the sun continued to rise, her heart swelling so full with something she felt sure it might pop. 

It hurt so much to see him this way, painfully beautiful, dagger sharp, knowing that behind this elegant surface was a mind trained for war. 

What other purpose could such a mind fulfill?

Rose turned, so slow, agonizingly slow, beneath the shade of his arm, turned and pressed her body in towards his, imagined he was awake and able to swallow her whole, to take her and mold her into his own body. 

If they were one-... if his mind shared hers, he would never leave her. 

Rose had never wanted anything so much in her entire life. 

She willed herself to fall asleep again, her head tucked beneath his chin, slowly and sweetly inhaling the wood-chip smoke and pine-sap smell of him, the underlying spicy leather and bitter tarine tea. Her hands fisted over his shirt, grasping it tight, and she snuggled in tight, accidentally pushed so hard into him that he began to tip over, rolling from his side onto his back, and all at once waking. 

“Hnnnrnn?” he exclaimed to the light of morning and the dark curtain hair hanging over his shoulder, hand snapping lightning fast to the knife beneath his pillow, brandishing it behind the other hand that had latched, protectively, over Rose’s shoulder. 

She breathed a happy laugh, swarms of pleasured joy burning all the way down into her toes at the gesture. 

Hux blinked his eyes sleepily, meeting her gaze, then let his head fall back into the pillow, armed hand falling at his side.

“What? Afraid an ewok’s going to take me away in the night?” Rose teased, her tone hopeful. 

Hux tucked the knife back beneath his pillow and shook his head, his eyes struggling to stay open as he examined her. 

“No, but I wouldn’t put it past Dameron, seeing as we’re on the run.”

Rose’s happiness seized in her heart, her fingers tightening where they were splayed out on his chest. 

For how much longer would he run with her…?

Hux was watching her face with narrowed eyes, slightly glassy and still glazed over from sleep. But she watched as he woke, as realization came to him, and shuddered as he sat upward, rolled her over into the plush softness of their bedding, pinned her down beneath the weight of his chest, hands finding her face. 

“Something is wrong.”

Rose shook her head and tried her best to smile, bringing one hand up to stroke the back of his. 

“No…”

An irritated sigh left his lips.

“She lies to the man trained in facial reading and experienced in rooting out liars.”

One hand of his was large enough to bind her wrists in his grasp, which he did, pulling her arms taught above her head. Rose tried her best to keep the moment light, forcing her laugh to sound natural and giddy, excited, as they’d done this sort of thing before. 

But Hux’s expression was nothing but serious, even as he ran his free hand over the breadth of her warm flesh beneath her tank top, watched through narrowed eyes as he worked his way upward toward the molten flesh of her breasts. 

“Confess your secrets, Miss Tico,” he hissed against her ear.

Two pads of his fingers had found a rosy bud beneath her tank. They were cold, vicious as they assaulted her in gentle, circular massages, and Rose whined through clenched teeth, squirming in his hold. 

“Hux, I’m not-,”

“Armitage.”

Rose stopped squirming. She cut her eyes to his face, her bottom lip trembling. 

“My name is Armitage, to you.”

Rose’s eyes fluttered closed, head tilted and lips parted to exhale a pleasant sigh as Armitage kissed his way along her jaw, palming her breast with soothing motions. 

“Or General.”

He bit down on the mark made from yesterday, and Rose jolted in his grasp, her fingers trembling, and squirmed her legs together as she helplessly released a tender whimper. 

“General…” she called him, meeting his eyes once more. 

He pulled back and stared at her, his eyes narrowed, and pinched the tip of her rosy bud between two fingers, rolling it once more as she ground out a squeaky moan. But he did not kiss her again, and soon his palm went still as he studied her face, his expression one of patient waiting, of wanting. 

He expected her to say something, and knowing Hux, if she did not say the right thing, he would wait all day long as the sun rose up high over Endor and the moon they were on shifted round and round the planet until another day had done. 

Rose’s cheeks burned as she wracked her brain, tempted to try and buck him off of her and reclaim some semblance of power over him, free her hands and assault him with her love. 

But his hand tightened around her wrist, as if he heard her thoughts, and he leaned in close over her face, studying her lips, before shifting his own to the side and languidly seeking her eyes. 

_‘I’m waiting’,_ said his expression. 

Rose’s heart thumped hard in her chest. 

“Armitage,” she tried on a prayerful breath. 

He looked so pleased, then, a General proud of his cadet, or something… more, that Rose’s heart picked up speed even as he resumed his heavy petting of her breast, his lips trailing at his leisure along the shape of her plump, round cheeks. 

“I love you.”

Rose’s next breath was a hiccup. 

He had said it so soft, his voice so small, his lips had barely moved, and even now she was not certain she had even heard it, as his thumb stroked around the ridged flesh on her breast, as his sparkling jade gemstone eyes studied hers in the glowing golden beam of morning light.

“I… told you the evening before but-”

Rose’s expression tore, her bottom lip trembling, her nose scrunching, her eyes wincing near closed, and all at once she was trying to breathe through instant tears, great, fat, salty drops rolling down her cheeks. Hux was stunned, his brows jumping on his forehead as he leaned back, hand pressing to flat to her torso and turning her closer so he could examine her features. 

“My dear,” he uttered with a start, his lips pressed into a thin frown of concern. “Did I hurt you?”

His grip on her wrists loosened, and Rose tore from his hold and dove for him, her arms wrapping death-grip tight around his neck as she shoved him backward, straddling the hard breadth of his body beneath her soft thighs. 

She sobbed into his shoulder, her breath hot against his neck, and Hux’s next sound was a breathless chuckle, his hands seeking purchase on the soft, warm flesh of her thighs, stroking up the line of her body and finding her waist, clutching at as much of her as he could hold, doing his best to comfort her. 

“I-... love you, too,” she choked. “Oh kriff I’m s-... so relieved.”

The soaking wet of her tears on the black linen of his sleep shirt was starting to become uncomfortable, so Hux pushed her upward, gently, sweetly, and stroked at the blobby mess of her face. 

“Relieved?” he questioned, curious, using the edge of his sleeve to clean up her features. 

The tears were stopping now, but Rose was sniffling, her fingers inching up his chest, hungrily groping over him, as she leaned down, unconsciously brushing her warm core over his. 

“I thought-,” Rose struggled for words, cupping the hard edges of his face, stroking his lips with her thumbs, soaking him in, drinking him in with her watery brown stare. “It’s just… we’re in the middle of nowhere, and the Empire, and I was worried, and I love you but I was scared and-,”

Hux hushed her, gently, delicately, soothing her with the warm touch of his hands. 

He rolled her beneath him then, the pair of them far shifted away from their original sleeping location, pressed her against the little mound of blanket corners that had gathered around them, nest-like. 

She kissed him with reverent worship, hungrily swiping her tongue against his, begging to be assaulted, trembling as the slick heat of his tenderly tickled the roof of her mouth, wormed beneath hers and stroked like a physical tendril of emblazoned passion. 

Hux lifted her thigh and Rose hurriedly gathered the blankets that had fallen into her lap, shoving them free, hurried to work the elastic waistband of his trousers down his hips, hurried to part the soft warmth of herself around him. 

Rose shook with delight when he entered her, trembled with the power of his hunger, ran her fingers through the beautiful starfire hair that she now owned, calmed and comforted and soothed by the might of his love. He rocked against her, into her, wove his essence into the very fabric of her being. 

Rose held his cheeks in her hands, stared at him beneath lowered, hooded eyelids, held his gaze as he loved her into submission, as he rocked their bodies hard into the cradle of softness around them. Tears streamed from her eyes; he licked them free, kissed them away, shushed her gasping breaths and tender whines, promised her this moon and all the others and the stars, too. 

Her nails dug into his back as she came, clawing into the muscle and sinew as she tore apart from the inside, screaming his name -- _“Armitage, Armitage”_ , the flop of his pretty red hair scratching against her cheek as he picked up the pace. 

_“Sweet stars”,_ he groaned past the copper taste on his lip where he’d bit down as he filled her, knowing he crushed her beneath him. He tried to shift, tried to free her, but she scrambled against him, parted her thighs and locked her ankles behind him, tightening the muscles around him, squeezing him, milking him for more. 

Both of them lay panting and spent after, the forest around them now silent, the breeze still, tiny droplets of sweat, and tears, and dew, and cream dotting the expanse of their entwined bodies. 

Hux painted her again with his lips and his tongue, marking her up in the instinct of ownership, braided his fingers into her hair and cradled her close. Rose lay with a blissful grin on her face, sated and still, her eyes following the sweet, tender motions of her lover, content to study him as the final rise of sunlight cleared the ridge and bathed him in a halo-glow. 

She had told him once, not so long ago, what love meant to her. 

Told him about Paige, about what love had meant to her, too, and how it was expressed. 

It had taken time, but not long after that, he’d told her of a kitchen maid with reddish-blonde hair, one who smelled of vanilla sugar and always passed him treats, until they’d left her behind. 

He told her what love meant to him without words. Rose had read it on his face. 

He looked a lot like this- hesitant, unsure, but desperate.

They made love again, and again, and again. They stayed beneath the ship, getting up only for lavatory use and to snatch a couple of ration bars and canteens of water. 

As night fell again, the twilight dim around them, Rose lay with Hux’s head on her belly, stroking his hair, scratching gently over his scalp with the tips of her nails, studying the welded panels of durasteel lingering up above their heads. 

Doubt called to her again, crawled across the surface of her brain, scurried into the shadows of her thoughts. 

She examined his serene expression, brave enough now, knowing that he was hers, to speak her mind. 

“So… what now, General?” she asked him again. 

Hux’s pale green eyes opened and lazily drifted to hers, his lips pulling in the ghost of a sarcastic smile. 

“What do you think, Major?”

“I want to find a home,” Rose confessed, her chest only a fraction tight compared to the day before as she waited with bated breath for his answer. 

Hux lifted his head, pressed a kiss to the soft flesh of her tummy, lips dancing with amusement as she flinched beneath him, ticklish. 

“Then I believe we have our next course of action.”

Rose’s heart soared and her head spun, dizzy from affection. 

“Sounds like a plan.”


End file.
